


My Muse

by LilLegalLoli94



Series: Paint Me Your Color [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Artist/Painter!Adora, Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls, F/F, Kyle Cameo - Freeform, Lonnie Cameo, Rogelio's there too but he doesn't say much, Scorpia Cameo, Skateboarder!Catra, Smut, catradora, suggestions of physical and emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLegalLoli94/pseuds/LilLegalLoli94
Summary: Catra's noticed a mysterious blonde stranger constantly loitering around the skatepark, staring at her with those steady, observant blue eyes. She can't take it any longer and confronts the girl, stealing a look inside her sketchbook to find rough sketches of her filling the lastest pages.After a retreat from the situation, Catra is confronted by the artist and given a special request: one final painting.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Paint Me Your Color [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596742
Comments: 31
Kudos: 468





	My Muse

There’s been this mysterious blonde girl who’s been showing up at the same skatepark for weeks now. She never brings a board to ride nor blades to skate, instead always showing up with that same sketchbook sitting under the same giant oak and staring towards the cement playground with those unblinking, crystalline eyes.

Although she stays out of the way for the most part, choosing to stick to the grassy area and remaining protected by the mighty tree, every time Catra caught sight of that immaculate and unmistakable ponytail in the corner of her eyes it just pissed her off. It pissed her off knowing someone like her was just loitering around her skatepark without any intentions to take advantage of the slopes and railings. It pissed her off that all she ever did was keep to herself to do god knows what in that wretched sketchpad of hers. But the most infuriating part, the point that just boiled her blood and made her feel like a volcano ready to burst, was how she always caught the girl staring at her. No matter how much of a distance she placed between then, no matter how far out of sight she felt from that piercing gaze, she always felt that same tingle—that same spark running down her spine—that told her that those oceanic blues never left her figure.

It always managed to trip her up. It made her stumble, made her clumsy, and bothered her to no end with the self-conscious feeling that someone was watching her every movement—that she was judging her silently with those irritatingly brilliant eyes.

And there she was again, staring, watching, observing, _judging_. A voice whispered in her head, agonizingly familiar despite its disappearance practically ages ago. She wished that she had forgotten what it sounded like when it spoke to her, wished that those words would have faded away with time, lost forever back in the void of the past. But it wasn’t. It never was, and it always found some excuse to creep back into her brain.

_“You’ll never be good enough,”_

She felt her board shift under her in a way that felt too uncertain to stick her landing. “Shi-!” she muttered at her realization.

Her body told her to bail and she does, abandoning the board on the steel railing and jumping to the ground a couple of feet below. She tucked and rolled as she felt her feet land on solid earth, feeling a few scraps line her bare legs and arms from the impact but at least nothing felt broken or sprained.

“Catra!” she heard a familiar voice cry out before seeing the large body bolting towards her landing site. Concern raced through her dark eyes as she hovered over her fallen friend to help her back to her feet.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Catra insisted, her irritation with the fall making her feel prickly and not quite in the mood for all her fretting and contact.

She stood to her feet, eyes flashing to the oak to see the girl with her book drawn downward, rearing up and ready to fly towards Catra’s side, but the hand still pressed to the oak’s bark grounded her right where she stood. For some reason, that just managed to irk the brunette even more. Whose fault did she think it was that Catra had to lower herself to such an undignified position? That she had to bail on something she practically mastered and show such an uncool side of herself to anyone who saw that. And yet, she still just stood there, staring like some deer caught in the headlights.

Catra gritted her teeth, glaring at the blonde and making sure she knew exactly who the object of such a menacing look was. She pushed her way past the large, heavy figure, leaving her board aside and making a beeline towards the shady oak tree. She saw those blue eyes flicker away in her approach, her face heating with the realization that this girl was coming towards her, looking like she was ready to slap her, and saw how she tried to make her hurried escape by shoving her book into her bag. But Catra wasn’t having that, she wasn’t going to let her get away.

She slammed a palm into the oak tree, feeling the rough bark bite at her skin but paid it no mind as she got the blonde girl’s attention with the sudden appearance of the limb inches away from her face.

Those eyes turned back onto her, turning to meet Catra’s glaring, mixed-hue gaze and being shot point-blank with the blazing gold and sapphire sitting in her eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Catra asked with a low growl.

“Excuse me?” the blonde asked back. It was the first time she’s heard the girl’s voice—grating like sugar and diabetically sweet. It made the brunette’s teeth ache…from the tight clench of her jaw, not because she liked how she sounded in any way, shape or form.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” she shouted, watching the blonde flinch back and lay the whole length of her back against the tree. Catra realized she had to look up to continue meeting the blonde’s finicky gaze but it did little to simmer the boil in her veins. “You’re always just sitting around staring at me! What’s your deal?! You have a problem with me or something?!”

“N-No! That’s not it at all!” she denied adamantly, shaking her head as she held her hands up in surrender to Catra’s aggression.

She didn’t look like she was trying to cover her tracks, but that still didn’t make the brunette feel any better. Her eyes flitted down towards the bag, seeing the infuriating girl’s book still sticking out past the zipper. Without thinking about it, she reached inside, yanking out the sketchbook and taking a step away with the book in her grasp.

“What are you always doing in here anyway?” she asked, splitting it open to take a look inside despite the objections she could hear coming from behind.

She thumbed through the pages until she got to the girl’s latest pieces. Past the doodles and mindless drawings, she saw herself etched onto the pages. Rough sketches and hasty drawings of her figure frozen in time, of times she idly road down the cement, just letting the wind run through her hair, times when she flew through the air like the laws of gravity didn’t apply to her, and times where she just hung out and sat down with her crew, talking about nothing and laughing about everything.

“What is this…” she muttered, too concentrated in staring at her own portraits to notice the blonde closing the gap between them.

The book was snatched from her hands and she felt the girl’s own annoyed glare boring into her skull at the brunette’s unwelcomed intrusion. Catra’s eyes looked taken aback for a moment, raising a brow at the sudden agitated motion before narrowing her eyes with a cocky smirk on her lips.

“Is _that_ what you’ve been doing, you weirdo?” she asked, pushing down how the girl wasn’t half bad, shoving away how the drawing made her feel flattered—made her feel like she was worth something. It was all done behind her back without any semblance of consent and it was that fact that she held onto to continue with her irritation with the girl. “What are you? One of those tortured, artistic types. Please! Get a life, why don’t you?”

She left the girl behind under the oak, feeling her incredulous glare still tickling at the nape of her neck, but she wouldn’t be the one to turn back to glance at the other because she didn’t care anymore. She figured out what that blonde stranger was up to, what that fixed gaze of hers was all about; and now that she was outed, she’ll probably never have to deal with her again.

“What was all that about?” the friend that came to her aid first was joined by the other members of her clique, holding onto her board while waiting patiently for her return.

“None of your business.” Catra declared, taking the skateboard from the woman’s grasp and tossing it down to the ground.

“But you looked really mad-”

“I said!” Catra interjected quickly, turning her violent gaze onto the woman, “It’s none of your business.”

She kicked away from the group, hearing the large woman being consoled with gentle, reassuring words that she was in no mood to give. Even though she exploded like that, let her anger and agitation go into the blonde’s face like that, she just felt worse and she didn’t get why. Images from her sketchbook flashed in her mind, how the girl captured a part of her she thought was snuffed out a long time ago. How she managed to bottle up and show the last sparkles of light left in her soul—a fleeting glance at the last remaining good left in her body.

What right did she have, Catra thought to herself as she bit into her lip, what possible right could she have to draw her like that, to draw her like she knew her? Every line carved into those pages, every stroke that made up her visage, they were nothing but lies. There was no good left in her, no purity, no light, and that girl, that naïve _stranger_ , was doing her no favors in pretending like there was something in her that was worth even a single dot on her page.

_“You’ll never be good enough,”_

Catra swallowed down the lump in her throat before it could choke her, pinched her nose before its sting could insight her tears to form and let out a shaky breath before she could break.

***

It was almost going on three weeks and Catra hadn’t seen the blonde since. Good, she insisted, loitering bodies like hers were better off somewhere else. Besides, now she didn’t have to deal with that incredibly potent stare of hers anymore. All was right with the world, she decided, everything was as it should be and that’s the way she liked it. At least, that’s how it should be. So what was this nagging feeling in the back of her head that something wasn’t quite right? That everything was still skewed a little to the left in some way.

“What was with that girl anyway?” a girl asked Catra, pulling the brunette into the conversation as they sat around the edge of the pit.

Caught in mid-bite, her granola bar hung out of her mouth as she looked over at the dreadlocked girl, wondering where that question even came from. “Huh?” she response was muffled with a mouth full of peanut butter granola.

“That blonde. You went up to her that last time, right? What was with that?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Catra grumbled, biting off a piece from the granola bar and clenching the wrapper in her hand. She never did tell them what she saw in that book of hers; it wasn’t really her place to be spreading the girl’s obsession with her anyway. And it wasn’t like it was going to change anything either.

“You were pretty rough with her. You don’t think she’ll want a bit of payback?” the girl joked with a soft chuckle at the idea of someone fighting back against the feisty young woman.

Although the tease was obvious, the large woman with her protective nature didn’t find it nearly as funny. She gasped, “What if she’s been using this time to plot her revenge?” she asked, finding the idea completely possible and highly likely.

“Doubt it.” Catra answered quickly, putting her worry to rest as she took another bite, “And even if she did, I can take her.”

“Uh… you sure about that?” the blonde boy asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty as his eyes stared back behind the group.

“You doubting me?” she asked, feeling ready to remind him why she was top dog in their circle.

“N-No way, it’s just that… she’s kinda coming this way…” he elaborated, pointing back towards the steadily approaching blonde.

The group’s eyes followed the pointing finger, landing on the same blonde figure whose ponytail swayed with each grounded step she took. The dreadlocked girl ooed at the sight, holding back her full-blown laughter as she watched her come closer with a mission plastered on her face.

“She really is coming to kick your ass.” she laughed

Catra balled her hands into tight fists, crunching the snack’s wrapper into her tightly coiled fingers. “Let’s see her try,” she growled, ready to welcome the fight.

“Or, better plan, how about we not?” her large friend advised her, reaching to grasp her shoulder and hold the brunette back.

“No, no, let her. It could be good for her.” the other girl stated, gripping onto the woman’s arm and holding her back from putting a stop to this.

“But-”

“Catra, right?” the blonde stranger spoke up, stopping behind them as she finally arrived.

“What do you want?” Catra bit back, her tone laced with venom and refusing to back down from the perceived challenge.

“Mind if I talk to you,” she glanced down at the group before adding, “alone?”

“She’s gunna whoop your ass.” the dreadlocked girl continued to whisper her teases, her words doing nothing to ail the large woman’s increasingly growing concern over the safety of her friend.

Catra regarded her for a split second before standing up to her feet, wanting to get this over with so she could finally let go of this agitating funk her mind had been in for the past few weeks. Perhaps the girl was right, maybe getting in a fight with this blonde would be good for her. At the very least, it could help blow off some steam.

“Fine, let’s go.” she stated, starting to lead the girl away from her clique and towards the grassy area where they could soften some of the blows if this chick decided to use her height advantage over her.

Before she could make the blow, before she could get her before she threw the first punch that was sure to come, the girl beat her to it with a slap in the face she could never see coming.

“I’m really sorry!” the blonde blurted and Catra felt her body freeze at the words.

“What?” she asked, thinking that perhaps she heard her wrong.

“I’m sorry for constantly drawing you without permission. I can see how that could come off as strange and creepy to see so many drawings of yourself in a stranger’s sketchbook. So, I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable.”

She felt winded, like she was punched in the gut and left to stumble and struggle to keep her footing. “Okay…?” she spoke slowly, the response being the only thing her last functioning brain cell could think to give in the wake of such a sudden apology.

“With that being said… I have… one last selfish request to ask of you.” she began fidgeting with her fingers, helpless to resist fiddling with herself to keep her resolve steady and focused.

Catra raised a brow towards her, unable to deny that she, herself, was a bit curious to know what more this baffling girl wanted from her after all this.

“Would you mind letting me paint you?” Catra wasn’t sure what else she could expect from an artist, but the request still caught her by surprise. “Just once, let me paint you just once and I _promise_ you’ll never see or hear from me ever again.” she was practically begging for the opportunity, her fingers intertwined together as she stared at the brunette with pleading eyes.

Catra wasn’t sure how to take this. She was expecting to throw fists and pull hair, not to be offered a proposition like this. She wasn’t a professional model by any means. She had zero experience and wasn’t even sure if she could stand still long enough to have herself painted. But the way those eyes looked, the way those accused blue eyes watched for her response, it wore her thin. And the flashing rough sketches that crossed her brain—those pages burnt into her conscious thought—it was the final blow to her resistance and hesitation.

“Fine,” Catra breathed out.

“Really?!” the blonde exclaimed, beaming a big, bright smile at the brunette.

Actually, this was the first time Catra ever saw the girl smile, seeing how her face lit up and how her cheeks turned rosy as her lips curled upward in her enthused grin. She felt a fluttering feeling flap around in her chest, tickling her heart and teaching her stomach how to do flips. She kept her hands glued firmly to her sides, keeping herself from giving away the blonde’s effects on the inner workings of her body and fighting to remain cool and collected before this stranger.

“Thank you so much! Oh, let me give you my studio’s address.” the blonde shoved her hand into her backpack, tearing out a piece of notebook paper before scribbling something down onto it.

In her haste, her handwriting looked rough and sloppy like the worst kind of chicken scratch, but Catra was used to chicken scratch and could pick out the letters that made up the location’s address well enough.

“Are you free tomorrow, possibly?” she asked, drawing Catra’s focus away from reading the sliver of paper.

“I could make time.” the brunette shrugged her shoulders. Although it wasn’t like she was doing anything anyway, she wasn’t going to let the blonde know that. It was a favor from Catra to her that she was even arranging to meet with this girl away from her usual stomping grounds, she had to maintain that level of superiority and power over her.

“Perfect,” the blonde responded quickly, paying no mind to the girl’s games of establishing ranking and order as she shrugged her backpack back over her shoulder. “Just swing by whenever you’re free, I’ll be hanging out there all day.”

The steps she made to leave was vastly different from the steps she took to approach. They were lighter, floating more than sinking, gliding more than dragging. Like the whole mood of her day was improved by leaps and bounds just because Catra told her she’d let the girl paint her. Who gets that excited over painting a stranger? Who gets that excited over the idea of painting a girl like her?

She looked down at the address, staring at it for a moment before her grip on the end tightens. This has got to be some kind of joke, she told herself, but as she neatly folded the scrap piece of paper and pushed it into her jean’s pocket, she felt like she was only trying to fool herself.

She turned to head back into the skatepark, obviously lacking any bruises or bloody stains, which was only going to entail more questions about what really went down. They were probably going to want full detail but there was no way she was going to spill what all actually happened. Some half-truths here, a little white lie there and they’ll be none the wiser. And as she concocted her story and sprinkled in the zest, a little unknown fact slithering into her mind, making her freeze and turn to see that the blonde was already gone.

She never did catch her name.

***

Catra found her way to the apartment building all right, noting that it didn’t look like anything special from the outside. Just an average brick and mortar building that looked just a bland as every other building in this concrete, urban jungle. The only point of color on the faded brick walls were the few tags and graffiti pieces labeling the sides of the structure. But it certainly wasn’t anything she’d expect from an artist’s studio. But what did she know? For all she knew, this could just be how it was, nothing special or fantastical about it, just a single person making a living out of her hobby.

She checked the note again, found the right buzzer and pressed the button, holding it down for a couple of seconds just to be sure her host heard her. The silence that came after was torture on her ears and she wished they could be filled already with some kind of sign that she got the address right. Or maybe… there was no art studio to begin with and that blonde was just pulling her leg.

Catra cursed herself, she hadn’t even considered the idea that she could have been lied to this whole time, that the blonde was just making a fool out of her. That made way more sense, who would want to paint her anyway? Who would want to waste their time and effort painting someone as worthless as-

“Hello?” a familiar voice came out of the speakers. It was her! “Who is it?”

“C-Catra!” she answered quickly before groaning. She reminded herself to reel it back, don’t give blondie too much or else she’ll be hurt.

“Oh! Come on up,” The door buzzed as the security latch was released to let Catra into the building.

She opened the door and proceeded further inward, walking through the lobby and finding the elevator that would lead her up to the right floor. As she took each step, progressing closer and closer to her destination, she couldn't help but question what she was doing here. She was heading to a stranger’s apartment just because she asked her to be her model. That’s how serial killers and psychopaths lure their victims to their lairs! What was she thinking?! Just because the girl had a pretty face did not mean she wasn’t a wolf in disgust!

Her gut instincts were telling her to turn back, to escape while she still could. But her hand already moved to slam the knocker into the door. This is it, Catra thought as she stood outside the door waiting for her final demise, this was how her wretched life ended, cut into tiny bits by a deranged psycho. At least she’ll get to see something pretty before she dies.

“Catra! I’m so glad you could make it,” The door opened and the blonde stood on the other side with her off-white, stained apron that was taking on a new orange shade with a bit of green undertones. There was a t-shirt worn underneath, a throw-away shirt from what Catra could make out from the paint-stained sleeves that brushed past more wet canvases than she figured the blonde was ready to admit, and a pair of knee-length jean shorts whose brilliant denim color had been washed away three to five washes ago. “Come on in, I was just finishing up getting everything all set up.”

The brunette stepped into the threshold, hearing her mind call herself a fool as she heard the door slam shut behind her, the bolt of the lock slipping into place and sealing her fate. But, before she let her life flash before her eyes, she gave the studio a quick once over. It didn’t look half bad; definitely not clean, definitely, most certainly, lived in and used often, but it had the right amount of chaos that made it feel like the birthplace of something glorious. There were blank canvases of various shapes and sizes ready to be used and waiting for the moment they’d be blessed with a true face against the wall. Several easels stood at attention, some holding half-done works while others held finished pieces waiting to dry.

A bed sat by the window, sheets clean and pearly white without a stain on them making them shine like fresh snow basking in the sunlight. There were a couple light fixtures set up around the bed, but those were turned off in lieu of the bright, early afternoon sun. And, in front of that bed, was a blank canvas ready to capture Catra’s painted visage with a small table of brushes, paint and water cans waiting on standby.

“You really are the real deal, aren’t you?” she noted in a soft tone, mindlessly looking through the girl’s paintings that she had on display.

The girl laughed, “You thought I wasn’t? Even after you were the one who snooped through my sketchbook?” she asked, an amused smirk coming to her lips as she watched her guest look around her studio.

“Hey, I don’t know what you like to do behind closed doors.” Catra stated, turning to look at the girl leaning against the counter with a smug look in her eyes.

She laughed at her worries, “Yeah, I suppose so.” she agreed before opening up a tablet that rested right next to her lounging elbow. “Here, I pulled up my portfolio for you to take a look at, just so you know how ‘real’ I am.” she said, handing the digital device over to her.

Catra took it from her hand before swiping through the gallery of paintings. The girl had a taste for a little bit of everything, enchanted landscapes, brilliantly mystical creatures and creations. A kingdom that floated with the clouds, a magical pegasus soaring high and free. Even the everyday things, the most mundane and boring parts of life, had a new flavor with her paint strokes, breathing new life into those everyday objects.

And then her portraits, the people in her paintings weren’t normal or average, they were celestials—gods and goddesses that belonged in the highest heavens. But Catra also noticed something else as she swiped along, the blonde was no stranger to naked portraits nor was she shy about keeping her models anatomically correct in her final product.

“You sure I should be looking through something so scandalous?” Catra joked, if anything, to hide her own awkwardness from coming across the strangers’ naked bodies.

The blonde raised a brow, taking a peek at the drawings her brunette guest was referring to before chuckling bashfully, “I figured you ought to see every piece of me. I have nothing to gain from hiding work I’m proud of.” she stated with a short rub of the back of her head. She caught Catra’s stare, staring into the brunette's perplexed gaze before laughing again, the noise sounding easier and more relieving. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to paint the human body as they are.” she elaborated, “There’s something beautiful about the bare flesh, something liberating and true.”

Catra felt her breath catch in her throat, feeling the soft, deep hue of the blonde’s eyes wring at her heart and reel it from her chest. She felt like she could drown in those eyes, constantly swimming towards a surface that was never there until she succumbed to the alluring pull and surrendered herself to that omnivident gaze.

“Wow, you really are a bleeding-heart type, aren’t you?” the brunette asked, placing the tablet down as she took a step towards the bed. She fell to its soft mattress, feeling the springs bounce back at her impact while she smirked toward the artist, “Did you give that little spiel to those other models too?”

“Actually, there’s been something I need to ask you about that. And before I say it, I want to emphasize that you don’t have to do it, I’d be more than happy to paint you as is, but I wanted to ask if you’d be alright with me painting you naked.” she said and the smirk instantly vanished from Catra’s lips, her mind going right back into stranger danger mode. “Of course!” the girl’s voice broke into her mind again before it ventured into the idea of making a break for the exit, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’ve been wanting to paint you in your rawest form for a while now. And… if this is the last time, I wanted to ask if I could.”

That’s right, Catra remembered, this was meant to be the last time. She wasn’t going to see this girl anymore after this one time. This would be her last drawing of the brunette, a better rendition of the girl compared to all those rough sketches the artist did of her while she was riding around in the skatepark. Surely she could offer something to help create a masterpiece and her clothes were a small price to pay if this girl could turn her into something worth looking at; if she could turn this beaten and battered body of hers into something gorgeous and breathtaking.

She chewed at her lower lip for a moment, digesting the idea of presenting her bare body before this stranger before her mixed irises fell onto the artist. “What’s your name?” she asked.

Realization crossed over the blonde’s eyes as it comes to her attention that she’d never given her name in all her interactions with the brunette. She managed to ask for her to come here today, managed to ask her if she’d be willing to take her clothes off, but never managed a proper introduction.

“It’s Adora,” the stranger finally gave Catra her name, elevating her to at least acquaintance level status.

The name echoed in the other’s head, letting it tumble around for a moment as she committed it to her memory. She thought to herself that the blonde’s parents must have really loved her to give her such an adoring name.

“Alright, Adora, we can do this your way.” she told her, agreeing to the farfetched request.

Adora grinned from ear to ear at the news, a giddy laugh spilling from her lips despite her efforts to hold it in with her hand. “Thanks, I’ll make sure it comes out no less than perfect.” she stated before pointing towards the bathroom along one of the walls, “You can undress in there. I have a couple of robes so you’re free to use one if you’d like.”

Catra’s eyes followed the indicating finger, finding the white tilted room on the other end and moving to take her up on the offer. “Yeah, alright.” she said, trying to sound nonchalant and dismissive but it all felt so forced with the pounding of her chest.

It wasn’t like this was her first time being naked in front of someone, not even the first time in front of a stranger—one-night stands and drunken mistakes will do that to a girl. But it was the first time it would be in the name of art: a tasteful picture held up by artistic integrity. And this artist, this girl that had been throwing the brunette for a loop for weeks now, was going be deeply staring at her body, picking her apart piece by piece and leaving no stone unturned under her critical, piercing eyes.

She was thankful to have this moment to herself in this tiny bathroom, because her chest was ready to burst, her heart ready to split open her rib cage and show off even more of herself to the blonde. The frazzled brunette began to chant to herself an internal mantra as she peeled off each layer of clothing: by the time she stepped out, she’d be her cool self once more. She’ll be calm, collected, in control and totally alright with the idea of placing herself under that tingling blue gaze’s magnifying glass.

This is fine. This is fine. This. Is. Fine.

***

Catra could, by no means, call her body unblemished, and that’s not to mention the dusting freckles that littered her skin with little dark marks. The years have given her plenty of scars in all different kinds of places. Like the large mark on her arm from the time the doctors had to fuse her bones in place from a bad fracture, or the giant blotch on her knees from a bad fall that took a chunk of her skin right off. And the best thing about skateboarding as a hobby was that she could attribute most of the incidents to boarding accidents and people would believe her.

They never asked questions or tried to delve deeper into how she got her marks and stripes because that was just the risk she took when she hopped on her board. And the ones she couldn’t explain, the ones that were in too odd of a place to be considered a “skating accident,” well those were easy enough to hide.

Catra took one last glance at herself in the bathroom mirror, her fingers feeling at an old wound that curled around her side, feeling the scarred skin and spelling out the words “worthless” and “unwanted” in its line. She bit into her lip, suppressing the bubble of doubt and anxiety that expanded and filled her stomach. She took in a deep breath, filling her mind with the simple thought of just remembering how to breathe. In and out, in and out, the words were just in her head, they weren’t actually written on her skin. She wrapped the robe around her body, concealing the marks that labeled and branded her flesh before stepping out of the bathroom.

“Oh, thank goodness, I was starting to think something was wrong when you weren’t coming out.” Adora commented as she looked up from her arrangement of acrylics and tools. Her ponytail made a transformation into a rough and messy bun in an attempt to further keep the blonde locks away from her face and out of the paint.

“I’m fine,” Catra clarified quickly, more so to convince herself than the artist as she rolled her eyes and pressed a hand to her hip.

“Okay then… um, why don’t you start by taking a seat on the bed there?” she offered, pointing the steel end of a painting knife towards the mattress.

The brunette followed the direction, stepping to the bed with a confident swagger before letting herself fall to the sheets, hearing the inner working creek and squeak underneath her. “Now what?”

“Could you take off your robe first and then place your right foot on the bed so your knee is close to your chest?” the blonde asked, watching her every movement and making sure her instructions were coming across as clear.

Catra moved her finger to the sash, untying it and feeling the robe slip open to let in the light breeze of the surrounding air. She slipped the article over her shoulders, letting it slide off her body to completely expose herself. She felt the hairs on her arms stand and line her skin with chilled goosebumps that were further illuminated by the midday sun. Her right knee rose up, letting her leg press into her chest and protect her nipple from any further nips from the drafty air.

“Good, good. Just let the left one dangle off the edge like that.” Adora praised, her eyes following the lines of the brunette’s limbs, “Lay your head on your knee too for me and hug your leg.”

“So demanding,” Catra teased, but she did as she was told anyway.

Adora laughed softly, “Just make sure you’re comfortable.” she stated, staring silently as her model got into position. She examined the final positioning, judging if it was what she wanted from over the canvas’s edge and biting her lowly lip slightly.

“Something else you need, princess.” Catra asked with a raise of her eyebrow,

“Yeah, hold on.” the blonde responded, moving to retrieve something from the kitchen and leaving her guest alone for a split second before coming right back with a red apple in tow. What she planned to do with the apple, Catra wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a snack for later, but she wasn’t putting it down.

“What are you-”

“Don’t move,” Adora stopped her before she could think to shift her position, eyeing the scene carefully before walking close to the bed while still carrying the apple.

Was the fruit for her then? But then she got on her knees before the brunette, her body now at eye level with her hips and pelvis. Just what was that apple for, Catra felt herself wracking her brain to figure out the method to this madness, catching the blonde’s steady gaze peering into hers for what felt like hours.

Her eyes finally shifted downward, placing the apple down on the floor before standing back up. “Could you stare at that too while I paint?” she asked.

It was just a marker, Catra concluded with an internal groan. Maybe an actual professional would have figured as much. An actual professional wouldn’t have jumped to such weird conclusions like she did. Seriously, what all could the blonde have done with an apple. But, then again, with enough determination, what _couldn’t_ she do with an apple? Limit’s only the imagination, and Catra could imagine that the blonde had that category nailed down to a science. An immensely confusing and messy science but it would be her kind of science.

“Perfect,” the blonde commented as she returned back to her easel and canvas, shooting the brunette a thumbs up to further signify her satisfaction with the held pose, “I’ll go ahead and get started now. Just tell me whenever you need a break, okay?”

“Got it, princess.” Catra responded. And so, her trials in the art of patience commenced.

***

She didn’t know what bugged her more: the fact that she was stuck in this position for what she could perceive at the whole day, or that the blonde’s staring gaze’s effects on her have become more potent and much more destructive to her body’s internal foundations. She had to hand it to those people Adora had painted before, standing or sitting still for hours upon hours on end was one feat that was already impressive enough as it is. But, to suffer through those hours with this painter’s eyes—with this blonde’s luscious blues—crawling over every inch of their body was a whole other story.

Catra could physically feel it, her artist’s stare working its way across her body, caressing her with such a hardened gaze. She felt a ghosting touch creep over her body, thousands upon thousands of fingers tracing along every curve, every line, every dip and every divot of her flesh. It was like Adora was standing right beside her, her subtle touch running down the sides of her waist, down to the supple swell of her hips and along the lithe flesh of her thighs. Like she was worshipping every inch of her and giving each part of her the attention they deserved.

Those eyes roaming her body were like a tickle, a gently little tease, but every time they crossed an old scar of hers, she felt the skin there burn hotter than any other time she’s known the wound’s engravement into her flesh. She was staring at them, giving them a little bit more time and a little bit more consideration, scrutinizing their shape and studying their shifted hues.

Adora could read the words branded into her skin, Catra started to think, she could read them and she was putting them into her painting. Pitiful. Unworthy. Disgusting. A waste of space. A waste of air. _Just die already._

“How long have you been painting?” Catra’s voice cracked as she spoke but she didn’t pay it too much mind, just happy to replace the voice with her own.

“Hm?” Adora didn’t look up from her painting, the sounds of gentle strokes and scratching canvas filling the second between when Catra asked the question and when Adora registered it enough to answer. “Um… I don’t know… I’ve always been drawing since I was really little so I can’t really pinpoint a time I decided I preferred painting. Maybe… middle school, early high school… somewhere around there.”

Catra let the blonde’s voice echo inside her head, letting it play on loop for a little while to keep herself from spiraling downward once more. She figured that was the end of it after two… three seconds of silence that felt closer to about five long minutes. But it seemed like the blonde had more to say.

“What about you?” her voice filled the air with a warm sweetness, “Have you been skateboarding for a while? You’re pretty good at it.”

The compliment helped, being reminded of something she enjoyed doing helped even more. “Yeah… since I was… ten I think?”

A light laugh dipped into the air, defusing into the space like calming tea. “I thought so, you look like you really enjoy it too.” the artist said, letting her smile linger as she prepared a shade of color on her palette.

It must have been more infectious than Catra first figured because she found herself smiling too, so small and feather-light that she hadn’t realized her lips had curved upwards. It had her feeling content, feeling a little more used to the artist’s necessity to light up every part of her in every careful yet powerful movement across her canvas.

It got Catra thinking that skateboarding and painting were a lot alike. Okay, maybe not a lot, a lot, but enough for her to feel some kind of kinship to the blonde. The brunette had to learn a long time ago to abandon her fears when she sped down on her board, to just go for it even if she thought it wouldn’t work. Although… there are times when she had to learn when to call it quits, but those had become few and far between. And that moment when she succeeded, the second she realized sticking to her guns was finally paying off, it filled her mind with a sort of high that no drug on his earth could ever replicate.

She thought it was like that for the blonde too, that Adora had learned to set her hesitation aside when she picked up her brush. Each one of her strokes, each movement of her arms and her wrist and her hands that held it all so steady, it was her way of going for it. She stuck to her guns and saw to it that no stroke could be taken back, accepting that they would permanently mark her canvas. Catra was sure she’s had moment when she had to bail, where she had to put down the brush and start again, but something in the blonde’s eyes told her that she was a fighter and that she wouldn’t let the set back keep her down for long.

Catra wondered what it must look like to watch her paint, to see each line and stroke and movement of her tools across the canvas shape the paint into something miraculous. She wished she could see it, the colors blending and transforming as this enchantress worked her magic. They’ve seen it before, haven’t they, she thought to herself, thinking back to those portraits she’s painted before—of those people who’ve felt the searing touch of her eyes.

It was kind of erotic when Catra thought about all the other models who’ve sat just as bare as she on these sheets. Under those blue eyes’ gentle caresses, feeling as Catra did under the mercy of their potent touch. Do models even think about that? Do models ever feel a burning ball settle between their legs? Probably not, but it was something Catra thought about.

“Have you ever done it here before?” Catra asked, her eyes flickering over to Adora, watching for some shift in her face.

“Done what?”

“Had sex with one of your models?”

The soft brushstrokes stopped, her eyes going up to met the mischievous glint that played like wildfire in her model’s eyes. She stared at her silently, her eyes flat and lacking any form of amusement or mirth from the question.

“No,” she answered after another second.

“Liar,” Catra chuckled as she smirked at the blonde, noticing how she avoided any contact with her mixed irises.

“I really haven’t. I try to keep my sexual life separate from my workspace…” Adora’s voice softened, drowned under the sound of her brush getting back to work. With how softly she was speaking, Catra pondered if the statement was for her or a reminder for the artist.

She let her have that one, letting the two of them dissolve back into a comfortable silence before another question tickled her fancy. “Have you ever been tempted to then?”

Adora looked back at Catra again, seeing that little, impish smirk coloring her lips with her devilishly teasing intents. She raised a brow at her as if to ask if her model really wanted an answer, but the brunette’s expression didn’t change or shift in the slightest, patiently waiting for her response. “I have,” the artist finally gave her answer, an honest answer that nearly got Catra fidgeting out of her position.

“Woah, and I thought you were some pure painter. So scandalous.” Catra laughed, feeling a tingle to move fill her fingers and toes.

“It’s not like I’m sworn to celibacy just because I’m a painter. I’m a woman too, you know.”

“But isn’t that some kind of breach of trust or something?” Catra asked, her head tilting slightly as she eyed the blonde curiously.

“As long as I don’t let it get the best of me, I should be fine. Besides, I think it adds a little extra to my art.” she felt the blue eyes fall on her body again, feeling darker, more smoldering and a little less innocent in their stare, “It makes it feel a little more raw… more human. It’s the difference between painting a statue and painting a person.”

Catra swallowed down the water building in her mouth, feeling her heart pound as the feeling of her own exposure began to feel so much more evident. “And now?” she asked, feeling like she needed to know if that raw feeling was going through the blonde’s brush as they spoke.

Adora looked up from the canvas once more, holding onto Catra’s gaze firmly, tracing over her body as subtly as she could, like she was trying to hide her sin. Everything was still, everything was quiet, and Catra’s body burned from head to toe in eager anticipation for the artist’s response.

She heard the blonde sigh and heard the handle of the brush hit the paint can. “How about we take a little break?” she offered, closing her eyes as she began to turn to retreat to the kitchen.

“Yeah, sounds good.” her model responded, thankful for the second to compose her head. Even if she did receive an answer to that last question, she didn’t think she could handle it, at least, not without the need to find some relief in return.

***

“What made you want to paint me in the first place?” They were back at it again, Catra’s eyes fastening themselves to the red apple as she tried to fill the silent voids with the questions that nagged at her mind the most. “I’m not a professional, this isn’t even really my thing. If you wanted a model to paint, you could have found one with more experience. So why do you want to draw me?”

Adora looked to her, eyeing her carefully like some kind of fragile glass figurine. The gaze in her blue irises softened as she continued to paint, making a soft melody with her strokes. “Because there’s something special about you, something worth capturing and preserving.” she said.

“You’re just saying that…” Catra told her, her fingers twitching with the urge to clench and ball themselves up into fists.

“No, I’m not.” the blonde’s eyes turned firm, speaking a little louder as she stood her ground in speaking her mind, “I don’t just say anything. Words are far too powerful and precious to be thrown around so carelessly. Catra,” she called her name, called for her eyes to look at her as she spoke, “there’s something about you that only you can bring and it’s irreplaceable. I-” her words caught in her throat, stopping herself before she could say anymore before shaking her head slowly. “It just… has to be you…”

Catra couldn’t help wanting to hear more, wanting to hear what Adora would have confessed to her if she didn’t have so much restraint. But there wasn’t much she could do about it, it wasn’t like she could hook onto those words buried so deep down her throat and reel them up to the surface.

Maybe she could see the answer in her painting. Maybe she was painting the answered on her canvas as she continued to fret and burden her mind with such incessant thoughts. Maybe everything will be clear once she was done.

***

She couldn’t tell how many hours she spent in this studio, all she could tell as she laid her back to the mattress—robe secured over her shoulder but still hanging open—was that the sun was high in the sky and now the moon had long since taken its place. She was honestly impressed with herself that she managed to stick it out for the whole day, but she had to give her props to the real superstars that did this for a living.

The sound of the running sink water filled the air as the blonde washed and scrubbed the paint off her utensils, her figure standing in the kitchen off in the far corner of the studio. Catra peered past her own body, watching the artist in her cool down after the time and stamina she had committed to her craft. She looked preoccupied, focused in on her task at the sink, or maybe she was just listening to the running water and mindlessly rubbing at an already cleaned brush.

Catra made a short grunting sound as she sat herself up, rubbing a hand through her thick mane hair as she moved to get off the bed. She’d ought to put her clothes back on. She’d ought to be getting going back to her place. It felt a bit disappointing but what more was left to be done? This was only meant to be a one-time thing; they were only meant to be two passing ships in the night, knowing each other for only a brief moment before carrying on with their lives. She could consider this as a one-night stand but thinking of it like that was even more of a shame, especially considering how much the blonde artist was easy on her eyes. Very, very easy on the eyes.

Easy, Catra, she told herself as she made her way to the bathroom where her clothes were waiting for her. She passed the apple still lying on the floor, crossing over the tarp that protected the hardwood floor, and passed the easel that held her painting. Well, she nearly passed it, but she stopped to take a look at what Adora had been working so diligently on for the whole day.

She stepped in front of the canvas and she felt her heart implode from the shock of the image filling every inch of her vision. Her mouth went dry and her eyes stung with the years of tears held back by restraint and deception. She didn’t notice them falling down her face, didn’t feel them leave their streams down her cheeks. She could only blink them away, keeping them from blurring her vision and impeding her view.

Before her was her painted figure in a nighttime landscape, her leg dipping into a pond with eyes glued to her reflection. But the reflection wasn’t of her but of a shadowing beast, some monster with her yellow and blue eyes glaring back at her. Barbs and briars twist and wrap around the figure, menacing and deadly in their sharpness. A creature that only wanted to harm her, to break her, to rip her to pieces, but it wasn’t real. The reflection wasn’t true, because the girl that sat before the pond, looking into her own image with her heartbroken gaze, was anything but.

Her skin glowed with an unearthly radiance, illuminating the darkness of night with a light that could rival the sun and moon combined. The artist kept her scars and transformed them into roses that budded and bloomed from her wounds. Pink and white blossoms graced her body, decorating her with their adoring hues. But they had thorns, thorns that surrounded and tried to protect her body but also sliced into her own flesh and made her bleed.

How could she have done this?

_“You’ll never be good enough,”_

How could she have painted her like this?

_“You worthless child.”_

How could she rip apart her heart like this with just a single painting?

_“No one could ever love you.”_

This was wrong.

_“No one could ever cherish you.”_

It’s wrong.

 _“Just die already._ ”

It’s wrong!

“Do you like it?” Adora asked, suddenly behind her and waiting for her feedback. When did the water stop? How long had she been there? Did she see her tears? Did she know she was crying?

Catra took in a deep breath, feeling her lungs quivering despite her efforts to keep her oxygen intake smooth and steady. “Taking a lot of creative liberties here, aren’t you, princess?” she felt her lip tremble as she fought to hold onto her smirking mask, but she could feel it shattering with each second she continued to bask in this painting’s presence. “I mean, what are you even trying to get at with so much embellishment, huh? You think this is actually me?” she asked, pointing a finger towards the painting while looking back at the blonde with her wet face.

“Catra?” Adora sounded confused but watched her with concern.

The brunette gritted her teeth, the look in the painter’s eyes telling her that she had no idea what was wrong and the innocence on her face just hurt her even more. “Was this your way of getting back at me? Painting and drawing me like I’m something worthwhile so I can feel even shittier about myself?!” she shouted, her eyes glaring and seething with anger and resentment.

“Of course not,” she tried to reassure her that her intentions were good but Catra couldn’t hear her.

“Because I already know that that isn’t me! It could never be me! I’m not something as worthy as this! I’m not something as _beautiful_ as this! I’m not…” her words became lost in her throat, feeling the sobs she held back begin to strangle and choke her. “Why… what right do you have to pretend like there’s something good about me?” her head hung low, losing her strength to keep it held up high—losing the courage she needed to look into her eyes.

“Catra,” she heard her name faintly through the buzzing in her ears, “Catra, look at me.” Adora’s hands cupped the sides of her face, letting her tears wet her palms as the artist tilted her face upward. “I’m sorry you feel this way. I never wanted to hurt you, believe me, I didn’t. I just wanted to paint you how I saw you.”

“Liar…”

“I’m not lying!” the blonde declared, her eyes growing fierce and desperate, “I don’t know what you’ve been through. I won’t even pretend like I know who hurt you, but you’re not as bad as you seem to believe.” Her thumbs wiped at her cheeks and along the slits of her closed eyes. “You _are_ beautiful and strong. You have a lovely soul even if it comes with a bit of a fiery temper.” she chuckled softly, the lighthearted sound stroking and petting Catra’s heart. “Being able to be with you like this is a privilege and you’re worth every second of it.”

“How could you possibly know any of that?” Catra asked, sniffling softly as she placed her hand over the blonde’s who still held her face. But she didn’t move to push them away, letting her warm touch linger for just a bit longer.

“Besides staring at you long enough to last a lifetime and a half?” Adora joked, pulling a light smile from Catra’s lips, “I haven’t regretted a single moment I spent in your presence, even with that rocky start.”

The brunette breathed out a short sigh, her eyes diverting to the floor as she let the blonde’s words seep deep into her psyche, engraving the look in those hardened eyes to her memory. She couldn’t quite say she was alright, the voice in her head still trying to discredit the blonde’s words even in its far-off whisper, but she did feel a little bit better, just enough to be able to face the painting once more.

“This is really me?” she asked as she turned her body towards the canvas.

“Well… I still want to put in a few more details but yes, that’s you.” Adora answered, keeping her close distance behind her model’s body, a hand pressing to Catra’s shoulder as if to keep her grounded. “Do you want it once it’s done?”

A soft chuckle left the brunette, turning her head back to look up at the blonde with her raised brow, “You really think I’m that narcissistic to want to hang up my own nude in my apartment?” she asked, catching the artist stealing a glance from her lips as she spoke.

“Then it’s alright if I keep it?” her voice grew softer, her face inching closer.

Catra’s focus closed in on those mouthwatering lips of hers, her mind losing its grip on any remaining cognitive thought. Her head filled only with the observable, concrete facts of Adora’s heat and Adora’s touch.

“Do what you want…” she whispered, unsure if she meant the painting or her intentions in closing this unbearable distance between them but she liked the blonde’s interpretation of her words.

She hadn’t realized how much she thirsted for those lips, how dry and parched she felt until she tasted them on her own. It quenched her incessant need but also sent out a nagging feeling for more: more of those lips, more of her teasing tongue, more and more until she was completely hammered off the intoxicating feeling.

She could feel a hand snaking its way inside the robe, slipping up her body and lightly caressing the underside of her breast. It sent a soft buzz through her body, delighting her with its tingle. She voiced her satisfaction with the touch, letting a soft sigh fall into the blonde’s kiss, but it enticed the artist to stop rather than carry on.

Her eyes looked panicked, realizing what she had done and feeling ashamed of herself for being unable to stop before it even started. Her hands retreated and she took a step back to escape Catra’s alluring everything.

“Sorry… That was… inappropriate.” she started, making Catra raise a brow as she turned to face the stumbling girl. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that,” that made the brunette’s eyes narrow in mild annoyance, “I’ll just g-”

Before she could finish, before she could run away from the situation she started, Catra’s fingers dipped into the top of Adora’s stained apron. She pulled the woman forward, holding her inches away from her face as she spoke to drive the girl as mad as she had made her. “Don’t stop,”

The order was short, sweet and simple but it was more than enough to send the artist toppling over her edge and careening into the sea of desire that filled her eyes. She was quick to follow through with it, crashing her lips back against the brunette’s and not wasting a second to slide her tongue inside. It breathed new life into her while also stealing her breath away with every knee-buckling second she tasted the blonde’s tongue exploring and claiming her mouth as her own.

She took a careful step forward, walking Catra back while her hands took a firm hold of the sides of her hips. Her mind was too enraptured to feel where she was going or remember the layout of the studio well enough to have any idea of where she was being led. Her lips tasted too good, her tongue felt too right to bother herself with such trivial things. In her dismissal of her surroundings, she could hardly feel the edge of the bed knocking at the back of her knees, only realizing it was there when she fell back into its mattress, pulling Adora down with her.

She felt her fingers—those godlike digits—working their way up the side of her thigh, trickling and tickling across her skin as they wormed their way under the robe’s thin veil to grasp at the supple flesh beneath. The tops of Adora’s fingers pressed into her flesh, fingernails biting deliciously into her skin as she split her open to find her place between the brunette’s legs.

Catra felt the blonde’s lips part from her own, her body taking the opportunity to fill up on its supply of oxygen but found the task difficult as she watched the artist strip out of her clothes before her very eyes. She stared in awe as the apron was tossed aside, drooled at the visage of the large, oversized t-shirt being peeled away to reveal the slim figure and milky smooth skin lying underneath.

Adora threw the shirt to the floor with one hand while the other ran across her leg, rubbing and feeling and memorizing its texture as she went back in for another kiss. The smack of her sucking lip rung in Catra’s head, feeling her suck and nip at the flesh there before moving away. Each subtle pull drew Catra’s head to follow, but before she could dive any deeper, the blonde would pull her head away, enjoying herself in her gentle teases.

She let a soft giggle fall between them at the indignant look growing in Catra’s eyes, pressing her forehead to hers before letting her lips linger for a while longer this time. They tingled at the constant attention and the brunette wouldn’t have them feeling any other way.

The rough fabric of her jeans pressed into her pelvis, feeling it knock against her clit and sending an electric bolt through her body. Her hips moved to get herself a second helping of the feeling, grinding into the blonde desperately. The need for more swarmed her body and raced through every inch of her flesh like a merciless wildfire. It pulled at her hips like puppet strings as she continued to tickle the itch but nowhere near enough to scratch it.

Adora’s lips turned upward in a smile, removing herself and drawing her hips away from Catra’s reach. Her model whined as her hips found purchase on nothing but air.

“You’re terrible,” she gasped, her breathing becoming more labored under the blonde’s ministrations.

“I’ve been told…” the blonde whispered back, pressing her open mouth kisses along her neck in form of apology but not returning her hips back between the brunette’s legs.

Each burning kiss left her mind feeling blank, forgetting even the most basic things to keep herself alive, like how to breath or her heart forgetting how to keep a steady rhythm. But with every skip and every hitch in her breathing, the blonde simply took it as a sign to up her antics. Her tongue painted fun little shapes over her skin as it made its journey downward: little hearts and circles and spirals and stars. She paused at Catra’s sternum, moving her hands to cup the sides of her breast and squeezed them together to sandwich herself between the two soft mounds.

It was nice, it lifted her chest to a new plane of existence and sent her mind spinning in another direction, but it wasn’t quite where she wanted those lips of hers. If she was going to kiss her body, let her lips and tongue traverse her flesh, then there was another part of her that could use her attention more than her chest.

“…lower…” she demanded in a breathless tone, killing off any bite of urgency that the order had in its soft tone.

But the blonde took it into consideration, her eyes flickering upward as she slid down the centerline of her body, kissing at her navel while her fingers tickled and felt at the scars that dipped and curved around the sides of her body.

“Here?” she asked against her skin sinking her teeth and biting into the flesh around her belly button.

So close, her body screamed at her, her stomach tensing and the muscles tightening with each of her nips. Her head shook wildly, “Lower…” she said, feeling her clit just aching and begging to be touched with each moistening twitch.

Adora’s chuckling breath hit her lips a bullet, feeling a cold chill spike her body as the blonde traveled lower and lower. For a moment, Catra felt relief was coming. For a moment, Catra thought Adora’s lips were finally going to strike gold. As her hands moved to squeeze around her thighs, spreading her legs and allowing herself a prime view of Catra’s glistening sex, Catra waited in eager anticipation, her opening twitching and beckoning for the blonde’s attention. But she missed the mark. She _intentionally_ missed the mark and, instead, pressed her lips to Catra’s quivering inner thigh, merely a hair’s breadth away from where she needed her most.

“Adora!” she called her name in a whiny tone. What did this girl want from her? To beg? Because, at this point, she wasn’t beyond begging. “Here,” she pleaded, her hips rising and her fingers splitting her lower lips apart, “right here, just please give me your tongue already.”

Adora’s eyes gazed at the scene, perhaps not expecting to hear her beg so shamelessly, or maybe she didn’t expect the brunette to present herself like a cat in heat. But she was into it. The slight smirk that crossed her lips and set her inner thighs ablaze with a new wave of wet desire told her loud and clear that she was into it.

“Certainly…” she whispered against the shimmering, liquid gold that lined her lower lips, blowing into her clit and watching her hips wince at the chilling sensation.

And then finally, _finally_ , her tongue ran across her slit, lapping her up like melting ice cream and coating her lips with the sweet flavor. Catra’s legs spread wider for Adora, letting her take every last drop she had to offer. The blonde pressed a firm kiss into the brunette’s clit, sucking and teasing the sensitive little nub with the tip of her tongue.

“Yes…” Catra moaned, lifting up her hips to grind herself into the blonde’s mouth, “more… more…” she begged, a hand finding its way to Adora’s hair and holding onto the golden locks.

Those deep, blue eyes flickered up to Catra’s face as she continued to such and lap at her juices. They glinted with a determined hue, wanting to give her model exactly what she wanted. Her arms wrapped around her thighs, coiling tightly and keeping her close to her lips. Her tongue dipped into the supply of slippering nectar, running along the girl’s opening before probing at her entrance. The orifice’s organ wiggled and tested itself before slipping inside to fill the blonde’s mouth with nothing but Catra.

Catra felt an electrical surge run through her spine, a power overload filling her brain as her hips instinctually bucked away to ease up on the intensity. But Adora wouldn’t allow her to move away, her arms tightening on the brunette’s olive thighs and pulled her right back to face the full brunt of her tongue’s assault on her entrance and inner walls.

“Oh! Fuck me!” Catra cried, her fingers grabbing a handful of the blonde’s hair while the other hand pushed her own out of her face. “Adora!” she cried desperately, “Adora,”

The blonde hummed in delight at the sound of her name, her voice and breath reverberating against her nethers and making the brunette’s hips buckle. Her tongue might as well have been as dexterous as her fingers, working its way through her tight, coiling walls and exploring to find all her favorite places inside the dripping cavern. The tip of her tongue found the best spots to tag, being rewarded for her efforts in this scavenger hunt with a fresh dose of Catra’s flavors.

Catra didn’t know how much longer she could last under Adora’s tongue’s brutal conquest, filling an overwhelming pressure in her stomach building like a pot ready to boil over. She couldn’t contain herself for much longer. She was going to burst. She was going to cum. This blonde goddess’s tongue was going to make her cum. But before she could reach that peak, before the valve could be released, Adora took her tongue away, moving her mouth back and hearing the brunette yelp helplessly.

Her eyes gazed down at her, wordlessly asking why she would do that to her and whimpering as she didn’t immediately rectify the mistake. Her hips tried to attract her attention, tried to get her to look at the sorry state she had left her in, but to no avail.

Adora stood up to her feet, unfastening the buttons to her knee-length jeans and shimmying them down her legs to leave her only in her underwear. Catra’s eyes marveled at the sight, for a moment wondering if the girl had ever been painted nude herself, wondering if she had any drawings or self-portraits of herself lying around somewhere. She wondered if she could find it if she looked hard enough.

The blonde hovered herself over Catra’s body, pressing her lips to the brunette’s and letting her taste the lingering flavors still hanging on tightly to the blonde’s taste buds. Mixing with the savory taste of her tongue and Catra found that they made a glorious cocktail together.

The feeling of Adora’s fingers running their way through the slick, slippery mess that lined her lower body sent a moan flowing into their shared mouth space, her hips jolting upward into her elusive fingers. Every time she rose up, the blonde moved back. It was getting frustrating how much of a tease she was turning out to be, making Catra nip at her lip in retribution.

Adora giggled softly, pulling away from her teeth and, instead, moving to kiss and bite at the brunette’s ear. “You’re too cute, Catra.” she whispered into her ear as she slowly slipped a finger inside, “Your body’s responses are just too cute…” she slipped in a second finger, slowly working them in and out of her body to draw out every inch of the brunette’s sweet voice.

It was so slow, so agonizingly slow that it drove Catra crazy. She tried to up the pace, tried to get Adora’s fingers to pump into her the way she liked, but she must have been playing some kind of game with Catra’s mind. The way her insides were quivering and clenching at the lengths of her fingers, she knew the blonde was fully aware of how much she wanted her—how she needed to destroy her and forego this gentle crap.

She whined into Adora’s ear as her hips failed to get to go faster, gritting her teeth as she moaned out, “Dammit, Adora.”

The blonde’s face came back into view, lifting her body up slightly to get a good look at Catra’s flustered face; at the rosy hue that dusted her cheeks and ran down her neck. The glistening of her eyes that made their dual colors shine like freshly polished gems and the tears that pricked at her corners were like a holy spring.

“Catra…” Adora whispered her name, licking her lips as she lowered her forehead to the other’s, “If I told you I wanted to paint you just like this… If I told you I wanted to capture this part of you on my canvas… would you hate me?” Her fingers slowly began to speed up, accelerating to a level Catra could be satisfied with. “Would you think less of me, Catra?”

Catra’s hips rose up to meet her fingers, riding her hand and feeling her push in deeper with each subsequent thrust. Her eyes tried to focus, clearing her vision to look up into Adora’s eyes. She saw desperation in her blue hue, anxiety mixing with anticipation as if she was actually waiting for a response—like this wasn’t just mindless bedroom chatter. And Catra could empathize. Through the foggy haze of lust and the mind-numbing drug of euphoria, Catra could empathize with the nervous feeling of sharing one’s fantasy.

Her chest swelled at the idea that his girl, as talented and breathtaking as she was, could be like this for her. That her mind could dive so deeply into the realm of degeneracy and debauchery all for her. She liked to tell herself that she was special, that Adora only ever showed this side of herself to her and that brought her closer to the edge than either her fingers or her tongue.

A smile found its way to her panting lips, snaking her arms around the blonde’s body and pulling her closer. “Not at all…” she panted, watching Adora as she stared into her, “I’ll even let you do it next time.”

That completely shocked the blonde, her eyes filling with genuine surprise while her flustered cheeks delved into a deeper share of red that some medical professionals might call alarming. Even if it was a deadly state to be in, Adora didn’t care, bringing her body closer to the brunette and thrusting her fingers harder and faster into the girl’s clenching pussy.

Catra yowled into Adora’s ear, her grip tightening and her nails biting into the blonde’s shoulder blades. “Adora,” she moaned her name, “Adora…”

“Catra…” the blonde whispered breathlessly, taking the brunette’s lips into her own and consuming the girl’s cries like she’s been starved for weeks. And, if she had wanted her like this, it might as well have been so.

A third finger entered her, reaching deep inside to pull out the brunette’s orgasm not too far away. The erotic squelches from her own body, the creaks and squeaks from the springy bed with every pumping thrust and desperate bucks, and this arousing artist whose neat little bun had long since fallen apart and cascaded from its loosened hold; it was all too much and just enough at the same time. She let herself go, letting Adora carry her to the finish and feeling every thought and worry wash and erode away with wave after golden wave.

***

“For someone who insists she doesn’t fuck her models, you got really into it.” Catra muttered, laying her body under the bed’s thin sheets while looking up at the blonde who was placing the painting and easel against the wall to come back to later. Adora looked back at her taunting smirk, standing in the middle of the studio in nothing but her bra and panties. “You sure you’ve never done it with anyone else on this bed?”

The blonde raised a brow at her, returning the smirk with one of her own, “I’d think I’d know if I’ve ever had sex in my own studio.”

“And how am I supposed to believe that?” Catra continued to tease, closing her eyes with a smug expression plastered to her face. She could hear the soles of Adora’s feet pad closer to the bed but was drawn to look at her as her weight surrounded her, the blonde’s hands pressing to either side of her head to cage her in.

“Catra, you want to hear my little secret?” Adora asked in an alluring whisper, drawing the brunette to hang off her every word. “I’ve been fantasizing about this moment for weeks now… I’ve even touched myself imagining all the ways I could make you cum for me… I haven’t thought that way about any other model before.”

She felt a sharp rush warm her stomach and tickle at her nether region, making her squirm under the sheets. A cheeky grin filled her lips as she wrapped her arms around the blonde’s neck. “You really are a scandalous one, aren’t you, princess?”

“It’s okay if it's only for you.” Adora whispered back, letting herself be pulled in for a tender kiss as the two continued to paint each other with their colors.

**Author's Note:**

> It all started so innocently: browse around on pintrest, come across sconefacedgirl's "draw me like one of your french girls" drawing (https://sconefacedgirl.tumblr.com/post/187026955250/draw-me-like-one-of-your-french-girls-but-its), get inspired... 12.7 thousand words later and everything just went its own way...
> 
> A huge thank you for making it through this to the end, I have one more piece for this series and then I'm going back to what I was writing. I just really wanted to write this idea out and I'm sorry it kind of developed a life of its own after so many pages.


End file.
